


Take Care

by FaintlyMacabre



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Common side effects of hunger (like shaking/tremors), Forgetting to eat, Gen, Junoverse | Juno Steel Universe, Rita is a Good Friend (Penumbra Podcast), negative self-talk, references to hallucinations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23649835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaintlyMacabre/pseuds/FaintlyMacabre
Summary: She’s a shivering wreck, a poor imitation of her younger self, might as well be a cardboard cutout with a scowl drawn on.
Relationships: Juno Steel & Vespa (Penumbra Podcast), Rita & Vespa (Penumbra Podcast)
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1702642
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Take Care

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @growth-and-destruction on Tumblr for Bad Things Happen Bingo. Prompt: Forgetting to Eat, with either Vespa or Jet.

“And for fuck’s sake, no picking at them this time!”

Juno turns and levels what has to be his most petulant look at Vespa. “I said I was sorry about that.”

“Yeah, not as sorry as you’re gonna be if that cut gets infected,” Vespa retorts.

“Yeah, yeah,” Juno says, and pauses in the doorway. “Uh, thanks, Vespa.” And then he’s gone, and the medbay’s all hers again. It’s weird hearing her name in Steel’s voice, especially with no anger or annoyance to it. He’s still a little shit, but—

“He’s trying, love.” She can hear Buddy say it— not like that. It’s not… it’s just a memory. Buddy’s planetside with Jet, picking up spare parts. She’s not here, Vespa isn’t _seeing_ her. It’s just nice to be able to remember a beloved voice.

Especially when she’s stuck on the ship with her three least favorite idiots.

“Gotta clean up,” she says, to remind herself, to put her priorities in order, to fill the silence. She gets to it. There’s a headache starting right between her eyes and she can tell it’s going to be a bad one. Better hurry up before it really sets in.

There’s more to do than she realized, or maybe there isn’t and she’s just getting slow, years of radiation and hard living whittling her down until she can barely walk straight. Pathetic. Her legs are unsteady under her, so she leans against the counter she’s disinfecting. Her hands shake unless she presses them hard onto the cold surface, so that’s what she does, putting so much pressure on the cleaning cloth that it’ll probably leave an impression in her palm. A little elbow grease never hurt anything.

When the space is clean and orderly, she still has to note down Steel’s condition. He’s mostly fine; it won’t take long. Still, she sits to record the note. Her hands are shaking even harder now, so she opts for a voice recording. It’s faster anyway, she thinks, not wanting to consider the implications. If she can no longer rely on her hands… if she can no longer in good faith call herself capable… She rushes through the memo and clicks off the comms, and then there are no more distractions.

She feels terrible. She’s a shivering wreck, a poor imitation of her younger self, might as well be a cardboard cutout with a scowl drawn on. A worse thought occurs: with Buddy and Sikuliaq away, what’s to stop the others from seeing how useless she is and throwing her out the airlock? No, they wouldn’t. Well, Rita couldn’t. Steel wouldn’t, probably… unless Ransom made it worth his while. Unless he isn’t really trying as hard as Buddy thinks he is.

It’s fine, she knows how to secure the door; all she has to do is hole up here until morning. Buddy said they’d be back by morning, and Vespa can’t think about what might happen if she can’t come back. Vespa stands and dark spots start to fill her vision. She sits back down in the chair and breathes through it until they disappear. She’ll just have to take it slow. Using the counter to support her weight, she drags the chair towards the door.

It opens.

“Miss Vespa?” Well, if it had to be one of them.

“What?” Vespa snaps, glaring down at Rita, the chair still under her hand.

Rita glances at it but doesn’t comment. “Just wanted to come see how you were doing, ‘cause you weren’t at dinner, and then I know you had to patch up Mr. Steel again, and it’s really pretty late and I’m pretty sure you don’t keep snacks in here ‘cause I did check once, and the closest thing was a drawer full of cough drops, not that I was gonna take your snacks—”

“Stop,” Vespa says. “Just, stop talking…” She presses the heel of her hand to her forehead, like that’ll counteract the knife-sharp headache building there.

“Miss Vespa, when’s the last time you ate something?” She wants to snap at Rita again, tell her that it’s none of her business, when she feels the gnawing in her stomach and realizes she’s not sure. She came in here to do inventory this afternoon, after Buddy left with Sikuliaq— didn’t eat lunch. Breakfast? Did she have breakfast?

“…so I came to bring you some snacks,” Rita’s saying.

“I don’t want your salmon snacks,” she says.

“Oh, well, these are actually peanut butter and ghost pepper, but there’s still some leftovers in the kitchen. I was just wrapping ‘em up, but you might as well have ‘em now.”

“Don’t need help,” Vespa hears herself say. “I’m fine.”

“No, you ain’t,” Rita says, and the flighty, chattering creature is gone. “You think I can’t tell what it looks like when somebody forgets to eat? I’ve kept Mr. Steel alive for years, and he got real bad sometimes, so if you think you’re getting rid of me that easy, you got another think coming.” She stares up at Vespa, not glaring exactly, but Vespa doesn’t think she’s ever seen the tiny hacker look this serious before.

For a second, she wants to push past Rita and go to bed, go anywhere that’s not here, to make a point, but she stops herself. What point would she be trying to make? Rita’s right. She hasn’t eaten all day, and it’s hurting her performance as medic. It’s hurting _her_ , and hell, maybe Buddy and Rita are right and that’s enough reason to do something different.

“Yeah,” she says. “Okay.”

Rita immediately beams up at her. “Great!” she says. “I’ll heat it up real quick. You just relax and leave everything to Rita.”

Vespa stays close to the wall as they make their way down the short hallway to the kitchen. Not a moment too soon, she thinks as she feels her eyes stinging. No way is she crying right now. She blinks hard and rolls her eyes, trying to chase the tears back. “So, what’s for dinner?” she says, as much for the distraction as genuine interest.

“Oh, you’re gonna love it!” Rita isn’t even looking up at her, instead looking straight ahead and practically skipping. “I made crystallized mango-crusted tempeh.”

That… might not actually be terrible. It actually sounds downright bland for Rita, and Vespa’s starting to wonder when the other shoe’s going to drop, until—

“By popular vote,” Rita says in a put-upon voice, “the ranch frosting is in a separate container, but Mr. Steel and Mr. Ransom barely even touched it, so you can have as much as you want.”

“Huh, lucky me,” Vespa says, and somehow it doesn’t come out as sarcastic as she intended.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Of course, I'd love it if you left a kudos or comment— even if I get too anxious to answer every comment— or followed me on Tumblr @princegabriel, where you can take a look at my remaining Bad Things Bingo prompts :)


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